


drowning in the memories

by itsmylifekay



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 10:35:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1979619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmylifekay/pseuds/itsmylifekay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 times the Avengers were oblivious to Steve’s aversion to water and the one time they finally got it. </p>
<p>Because there needs to be more fics about Steve struggling. And he is so emotionally constipated it hurts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	drowning in the memories

**Author's Note:**

> hope you like it~

 

\---+---+---+---

It starts out simple enough. The Avengers are brought in for their next assignment, one of the few since the alien attack on New York, and when they notice the Captain is missing Fury dismisses it with an unyielding “He’s chosen to sit this one out.” And none of them question it. Because it makes sense. Steve did, after all, just get his best friend back. And not just Hydra’s shell, but a working and nearly completely refurbished Bucky Barnes (thanks to the same magical cube that had nearly killed them all, go figure), so of course Steve would want to stay back and spend some time catching up. Besides, it wasn’t like they all hadn’t taken time off themselves for various reasons, with Thor living galaxies away, Tony running a business empire, Bruce going halfway across the globe for some humanitarian cause…

But that one mission turned into another, and then another, spaced out over time but conspicuous in the well known fact that Steve hadn’t taken a day off since he first beefed up back in WWII. And now he had taken three.

But he’d had excuses for all of them.

Bucky was having a rough day and Steve needed to stay. Bucky’s arm was due for a tune up and Steve needed to stay. Bucky had a particularly bad nightmare and Steve needed to stay.

None of them were lies, not really. Because Steve knew better than to try to lie in any situation he didn’t want Fury or Natasha to find out. Especially Natasha.

So it was half-truths. Yeah, Bucky had had a bad day or night or needed his arm looked at, and yeah he’d told Steve to stay behind, but the two didn’t actually have anything to do with one another. Bucky had bad days all the time and didn’t need Steve to hold his hand, maybe a comforting shoulder at night but not a babysitter. Never a babysitter. Bucky’d had enough of not being trusted on his own.

But not everyone knew that. And Bucky had no qualms about letting the other Avengers think what they wanted about him so long as he could keep Steve safe. And that meant making sure Steve didn’t go on any missions involving water. No diving, no swimming, no jumping out of planes into the icy depths.

It meant stroking Steve’s soft blond hair after the other people chosen for the mission had left, reassuring him that he wasn’t weak, that he wasn’t running away.

It meant accepting the loaded glances of Steve’s friends the morning after a sleepless night, pretending he was the only one with nightmares and panic attacks so intense they’d broken the bed nearly ten times before Tony’d finally built one out of some kind of reinforced steel.

(The most terrifying part of Steve’s nightmares was always how quietly he endured them. While Bucky would lash out and scream in his sleep, an outward explosion of energy as his past and present minds battled memory and reality, Steve collapsed in on himself, trying desperately to keep control and not let any of the terror show.)

Bucky had tuned himself to the small tells Steve _did_ let show, the tiniest hitches of breath, the tenseness of muscle against him as Steve locked up.

He’d also convinced Steve to talk about it, the product of weeks of patience and hours of pleading finally culminating into Steve burying his head in his hands and whispering with so much shame in his voice, _it's the water, Buck. I can’t stand the water,_ that Bucky had immediately pulled him into his chest and kissed every inch of his face he could reach.

But he understood. He did. Steve had crashed a plane into icy water and woken up seventy years later, he had fallen into the Potomac and nearly died. If Steve hadn’t developed a bit of trepidation towards large bodies of water Bucky truly would’ve been worried about Steve’s natural sense of self-perseveration. As it was, he still had to put a strong hand on Steve’s shoulder whenever a mission cropped up that he had to deny. Because Steve had never been able to run away from a fight, and it was still Bucky’s job to keep that instinct in check.

It would’ve been nice, to have that consistency, if the reasoning behind it didn’t hurt so goddamn much.

But at least he was helping. Steve hadn’t had to go near any large bodies of water since he’d told Bucky the truth, and so far it seemed as if the rest of the Avengers hadn’t caught on either. A fact that was reassuring to Steve, but put Bucky on edge.

He just hoped it wouldn’t come back to bite them.

\--+--+--+--

“Oh captain, my captain!” Tony yelled from his spot stretched out on a pool raft, holding up a glass of liquor that was sloshing dangerously close to the edge, much like Tony himself as his shifting body weight threatened to dump him into the pool.

Steve lifted his head and glanced at Tony from over the top of the book he was reading. (They’d been trying to get him in the water all day and every time Steve had brushed them off with a simple ‘no thanks’. It hadn’t done anything to stop their attempts though.)

“Water’s fine, Cap. Why don’t you and your fellow relic come wash some of the dust off?”

Bucky took the liberty of flipping Tony off as Steve delicately set his book down on the edge of the white plastic chair (Tony could no doubt afford better but had said something about the true America pool experience when Natasha had lifted an eyebrow at the cheap décor).

“You can’t tell me that thing isn’t water proof, Barnes! I’ve done the diagnostics, you have no excuse!”

“Ever occur to you that maybe I just don’t want to go in?” Bucky asked, standing up to stretch and clapping Steve on the shoulder before muttering that he’d be right back, had to use the restroom, and disappearing before Tony could harass him further. He’d been by Steve’s side all day, a barrier against all of the cajoling, because as much as the others may’ve wanted Steve to join they would never dare take him away from Bucky.

So really, he should’ve known not to leave Steve alone with the rest of them (many of whom were just buzzed enough to be a problem—especially Tony, who had it in his head that he and Steve needed to join in the fun) even for just a short while. He should’ve known. But he left anyway. And so not even five minutes later, he walked back into the pool area just in time to see Steve get yanked into the water from where he’d been sticking his feet over the side.

He cursed under his breath and ran to the edge, dropping to his knees just as Steve broke the surface sputtering and gasping for air. He hardly had time to blink before Steve was frantically dragging himself up out of the water and he wasted no time in grabbing Steve beneath the armpits and hauling him the rest of the way onto dry land, where he remained shivering in Bucky’s arms for just a beat too long.

Natasha lifted an eyebrow at them from across the pool but Bucky just shook his head, hefting Steve to his feet before clasping a steadying palm at the back of his neck. The worst part was he couldn’t even be mad. Because getting mad would indicate something was wrong and Steve would be furious if Bucky gave away his secret by making a big deal out of a simple prank.

But he also knew that he had to do _something._ Steve was definitely struggling, and if Bucky didn’t find some excuse for them to duck out of sight, people were going to start to notice. So he mustered his most genuine concerned-Bucky-Barnes expression, only having to fudge a little at the edges because fuck he really _was_ worried, before shaking his head and starting to tug Steve towards the door.

As expected, Steve attempted a feeble protest but Bucky quickly shushed him with a stern look. “You look like a drowned rat, Rogers. Gotta get you showered and warm before you catch your death.”

He layered his Brooklyn accent on thick and heavy, knowing that it would be taken as a lapse into Pre-WWII headspace, back when Steve was tiny and Bucky had to treat him like he was made of glass. And it worked. No one said a thing as he steered Steve back towards their shared floor of Stark’s tower.

And no one saw when Steve broke down in Bucky’s arms, pale and wide-eyed and terrified as he dripped on the carpet, whispering over and over ‘ _It’s so cold, Buck. It’s so, so cold.’_

\--+--+--+--

The plane was screaming all around him, alarms blaring and lights flashing and Clint was yelling out orders as if Steve could actually hear a word he was saying when all he saw was ice coming up to meet him and freezing cold water seeping down to his bones and _oh god this is the end._ They hadn’t even supposed to have been near water. This was a reconnaissance, aerial, completely away from any kind of water, kind of mission. But something had hit them and Clint was emergency landing and Steve was trapped somewhere between this century and the last, not sure what was happening but knowing that _planes_ and _water_ and _falling_ never meant anything good.

But some part of him must’ve been listening because suddenly he was outside the plane and his limbs were moving, treading water, and Clint was beside him once again yelling something about the shore and Natasha and extraction points. And Steve needed to swim. So he did, moving his limbs on autopilot as his mind shouted obscenities, the journey ice cold even though they were somewhere in South America and really he should’ve been looking out for alligators or snakes or whatever exotic horrors this land had to offer. He felt bad that he wasn’t watching out for Clint, but he knew that their biggest vulnerability at the moment was him. He had to get his act together. Had to get himself out of the water and keep himself together until he got back to the tower. Got back to Bucky.

Bucky would know what to do.

The run to meet Natasha at the extraction point was a haze but by the time he was safely buckled into a different jet his breathing was under control, steady counts keeping him looking calm even though on the inside he was reeling. But he could do this. _Had_ been doing this for longer than he could remember.

Show no fear.

They punch you, you get back up. They shoot you, you show no pain. The past comes back to haunt you, you sit and take it. Because the leader cannot falter and there’s no way Steve was going to admit weakness when he was supposed to be protecting everyone else.

He just had to soldier through, smile through the pain, like he’d always done. (Or at the very least stay silent.)

Which was why, when they arrived back at Stark tower, Steve nearly collapsed in relief when he saw Bucky waiting on the edge of the platform, arms folded and face set like he already knew what had happened. With Bucky, he didn’t have to hide.

He stumbled off the plane only a little less gracefully than usual and let Bucky drag him into his arms, gripping the fabric of Bucky’s sweatshirt tight in his hands to hide the way they had started to shake. Bucky narrowed his eyes and then they were moving, Bucky supporting most of Steve’s weight as his limbs grew heavy with cold.

Somehow they ended up in the bedroom-- and Steve wasn’t really sure how that had happened-- but he _did_ know that Bucky was there and was toweling him off, and then he was in dry clothes and warm arms and everything was going to be okay.

Bucky knew what to do. It was going to be okay.

And if the rest of the Avengers gave them sly looks the next morning, thinking Bucky’s behavior came from being apart from Steve for so long and they were gone the rest of the evening for different reasons entirely, then so be it.

So long as he never had to go in the water again.

\--+--+--+--

“We’ve got a kid in the water!” Steve shouted through the com, voice tight as he sprinted towards the pier. “Is anyone close?”

“Negative, Captain. You’ve got the best shot.” Clint responded, eyes no doubt tracking every member of their group. Bucky was supposed to be doing that as well, but had taken to mostly just watching Steve, a fact which had no doubt been recognized considering Clint was on this mission as well. (There was, after all, no need for two snipers but after Steve’s disaster in Brazil Bucky had refused to let Steve go on missions without him).

But it also meant that his eyes were firmly trained on Steve as the response came in. He saw the flicker of panic on Steve’s face, followed by steely resignation as he picked up his pace towards the water. The boy in this situation was much different from the one Bucky’d been told about during the war, the one who had waved Steve off with a cheeky “I can swim”, because this boy was choking and coughing and splashing. But Steve was still the same headstrong, idiotic hero that he’d always been and he dove into the water before Bucky had a chance to convince him otherwise. Because sure, Steve was closest, but Bucky could’ve been there in time, could’ve gotten the kid out and saved Steve the trauma. But it was too late.

Steve disappeared beneath the dark, choppy water burning with determination and energy but by the time he resurfaced with the kid safe in the crook of his arm and one hand firmly on the wooden edge of the pier Bucky could already tell he was gone, a flame doused and struggling. Bucky even had to pick off the next group of hostiles who surrounded Steve almost entirely on his own, since Steve was barely holding on just defending himself and the kid. It was uncharacteristic, it was worse than even Bucky had expected, and it had his mind spinning with the possibilities of just how much more Steve had kept from him.

When he finally managed to get down to Steve, the other man was shuddering and shivering and his eyes looked a thousand miles away. Everything Bucky knew about first aid said Steve was going hypothermic but a quick check of Steve’s hands and neck told him Steve was running hot as ever. So no physical threat, thank God, but a mental one that had apparently gotten worse without his noticing.

“Steve,” he said sternly, drawing the other man’s unfocused gaze. “You need to take this kid to get help, alright? Run to police block and drop him off. I’ll meet you there.” Steve made no sign of moving so Bucky put a hand on his face and shook him a bit. “Do you understand?”

Steve blinked at him, then looked down at the semi-conscious kid in his arms. “Yeah, I- I understand.” He understood that he was a liability just as much as the kid was-- and this was Bucky’s way of giving him an out. Thankfully, he took it, sprinting through the battle without pause while Bucky came up with some shitty excuse involving the kid’s vital signs to say over the com.

From that moment on, he was ruthlessly efficient, taking out any hostile who wandered into his line of sight as he followed Steve’s path. He was going to finish this mission quickly, get Steve, and then give him the lecture of a lifetime for not telling him just how bad it had gotten.

It was Bucky’s job to protect Steve, to keep him safe, but he couldn’t do that if Steve was hiding his pain.

\--+--+--+--

“That alright, Stevie?” Bucky asked softly, keeping his voice low and calming as he scooped warm water over Steve’s back and arms, careful to keep his other hand on the back of Steve’s neck as an anchor.

Steve’s eyes had never once left his face so Bucky merely had to glance up to see Steve’s tense expression. He squeezed his hand a bit tighter and Steve let out a lungful of air. “Yeah, yeah Buck. I’m fine.”

“You’ll tell me if it starts getting to be too much.” Bucky said, fixing Steve with a look that left no room for argument before he went back to pouring water down his back and scrubbing at the pink skin there. The water was probably too hot too be comfortable but it was what Steve needed, any temperature lower and he started to get tense.

It was one of the many steps Bucky had taken to ensure Steve felt safe.

And it had taken a lot of trial and error as well, with Steve working through what triggered his more severe responses, and learning to share what was going on with Bucky. He’d never been good at admitting when he needed help but, luckily for both of them, Bucky’d always had a knack for getting it out of him or figuring it out himself.

So now they were set up in their personal bathroom with a clear basin, a clear cup, and a disabled showerhead, as well as an inordinate amount of luck that no one had asked any questions. Because while few people visited their floor and even fewer used their bathroom, it did happen occasionally and their new supplies weren’t exactly inconspicuous. Bucky was also under no delusions that Stark didn’t occasionally check in on what new adjustments were asked of Jarvis, including their request to have the shower disabled after one of them had turned it on by accident and sent Steve into a panic. And they always disappeared for long periods of time to shower together too, because Bucky needed to bathe Steve and Steve needed to wait in the bedroom while Bucky rinsed off.

(They’d tried having Bucky in the tub with Steve, but the idea that Bucky could be drowning alongside him had made Steve’s resulting panic attack extremely unpleasant for both of them.)

But they had learned.

They had learned that Steve didn’t like to be submerged, that not being able to see the water made it worse, and that after a mission or nightmare he was too out of it and vulnerable for any water to hit his face. So Bucky had ordered the clear tub, set it up on the floor, and had Steve hold his shoulders as he rinsed him off. It worked like a charm. And if Steve was particularly hurt or tired he could even sit down without getting too worked up.

It was easier to manage, easier on Steve, so of course Bucky had insisted on keeping up the practice despite Steve complaining it was too much hassle.

“Nothing’s too much for my best guy.” Bucky had said, winking at Steve and effectively ending that debate. (Steve may’ve griped at Bucky’s mothering but he rarely, if ever, outright denied it.)

Bucky poured another rinse of warm water over Steve’s chest to wash away the last of the suds then kissed the side of his head. “All done. Step out for me?”

Steve got out of the tub and Bucky got to work drying him off with a towel, (not because Steve necessarily needed that part, but because he liked to do it and Steve was too docile after a bath to do much to complain). When he’d finished, he wrapped the towel around Steve’s waist and gave him a pat on the butt. “Go ahead and get dressed, I’ll be out in a few.”

Bucky watched him go with a fond expression, a weight lifted from both of their shoulders now that they had Steve’s situation more under control. And, by some trick of fate, Steve’s secret was still just between the two of them.

\--+--+--+--

Steve was dozing on Bucky’s shoulder during group movie night, fluffy blond hair tickling the side of Bucky’s neck and the skin of his arm soft beneath Bucky’s fingers. A bad night had bled into a bad day and now all Bucky wanted to do was tuck Steve into bed, but they’d already skipped out on the last movie night (the others had wanted to watch _Titanic_ and Bucky only had to look at the summary to know that was a bad idea) so there was no way they were getting out of this one.

The characters on screen broke out into song and Steve mumbled incoherently into the fabric of Bucky’s shirt, relaxed in this moment surrounded by his friends. If Steve couldn’t be in bed, Bucky was glad he was here, even if his arm was falling asleep from having Steve’s weight pressed up against it.

But of course the moment didn’t last, everything going to shit with a shouted curse from Clint, a burned bag of popcorn opened directly beneath a smoke detector, and the resulting activation of the building’s (rather severe, thank you Tony) fire safety system. The smoke detectors started to go off and within moments so were the overhead sprinklers, dousing the room with a shower of cold water. Bucky cursed and tried to cover Steve with his body but it was too late, the sudden wetness against his face without any warning already had him shaking in Bucky’s arms.

“Buck,” he gasped, the room dark and oddly lit from the movie and flashing lights. His hands scrambled for purchase on any part of Bucky he could reach. “Bucky?”

“Yeah, yeah Steve, I’m here. I’m right here. It’s gonna be okay. You stay with me now, got it?” He hauled Steve up from the couch and started tugging them both towards the kitchen, ignoring the confused and worried expressions of everyone else in the room.

As he settled Steve on a chair and clasped his face between two hands, he could hear the others talking out in the main room.

“What was that?” Clint asked. “Did he get hurt or…?”

“No,” Natasha said. “That wasn’t Steve acting hurt…”

“That was a panic attack.” Tony finished, an odd tone to his voice that told Bucky he was speaking from personal experience.

Within moments, Natasha appeared in the entrance to the kitchen. “What can we do?” She asked, voice level and controlled with just a tinge of worry leaking in around the edges.

Bucky glanced back at Steve whose eyes had become unfocused and far away, wet hair sticking to his forehead and fingers trembling in the hem of Bucky’s shirt. “Towel.” He said, having to wait only a moment before Natasha placed one in his hand. Steve didn’t even acknowledge the touch as Bucky began scrubbing his face dry.

By that time, the rest of the Avengers had gathered in the doorway and were standing in stunned silence as Bucky wiped the water from Steve’s face. He addressed them quietly as he worked. “The water upset him, he’ll be fine in a few minutes. Just, don’t touch him until you dry off and do that as soon as you can.”

The towel had done as much good as it was going to do, so Bucky took Steve’s head back in his hands. “Steve,” He said. “You’re here, you’re with me. You’re safe, I’m safe, and everything is going to be okay.” Steve let out the smallest of sounds and Bucky nodded. “That’s right, I’m here. And now we’re going to stand up and go get you dried off, pal. Gonna take good care of you.” He pulled Steve to his feet then guided him towards the door, everyone else taking a step back so they could pass through.

Once they were securely tucked away in their room, he stripped Steve completely, leaving damp clothes in a forgotten pile on the floor while he grabbed another towel from the bathroom to dry Steve off with. The room was quiet save for their breathing so it was easy for Bucky to monitor Steve’s level of distress, inhales going from short and shallow to longer and more relaxed. Finally, just as Bucky finished drying himself off, Steve’s eyes fluttered back into focus and he reached out to take Bucky’s hand.

“Buck…” He whispered, a question and a plea all at once. But Bucky knew this wasn’t something that they could ignore anymore. It was something they should’ve addressed a long time ago, really. Steve needed help, and as much as Bucky hated to admit it, he wasn’t enough.

“Yeah, Stevie,” Bucky said back, squeezing Steve’s hand and pulling him into a hug. “Yeah, they saw. But it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. I promise.”

Steve shook his head but Bucky wasn’t going to have any of that. He put one sturdy hand on the side of Steve’s face and locked their eyes together. “It’s going to be fine, pal. You’ve just got to have a little trust…” He looked down at their naked bodies and cracked a smile. “Some clothes probably wouldn’t hurt either.”

Steve smiled back weakly. “You’re gonna make me go back out there, aren’t you?”

“I’ve always told you that you don’t have to do things on your own.” Bucky said. “And you _don’t_. They’ll help you. They’re your friends. You don’t have to be so worried.”

Steve didn’t say anything but that in itself spoke volumes. Because he wasn’t sassing back or finding away out of it, he was still pushing up his chin and refusing to back down from a fight. It was just sad that this was something he considered worthy of that sort of determination.

Bucky pulled on a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt and watched as Steve did the same, not commenting on how Steve had pulled the clothes from Bucky’s drawer instead of his own. Then, he took Steve’s hand and guided him towards the living room Jarvis informed him everyone else had re-gathered.

When they arrived, the movie was back on screen, everyone in relatively the same positions as they were before, and Clint was happily munching on a bag of M&Ms. The only difference, Bucky noticed, was that the lights were on.

Natasha looked over her shoulder after a moment and lifted one delicate eyebrow. “You gentlemen joining us?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nudged Steve to get him to start moving towards the couch. “Did we miss any good parts in the movie?”

Clint immediately reached for the remote and started to rewind. “Yeah, you missed a totally awesome music number. But don’t worry, we’ll just watch it again.”

“Right, because god forbid they miss the singing trolls. Definitely important for their understanding of modern culture.” Tony flicked at something on the screen in his hand then cleared his throat once Steve had sat down. “Should’ve told us you didn’t like water, Cap. Wouldn’t have pushed you in the pool.”

“It’s not a-”

Bucky promptly elbowed Steve in the side, knowing where that was going. Steve huffed but reworded anyway.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal. We all have things we struggle with.”

There was a thick pause as everyone took in the irony of Steve’s words. His thoughtless admission that no one was perfect but that somehow his own problems weren’t worth being shared.

“We’re a team, Rogers.” Natasha said. “You don’t have to do things alone.”

Everyone murmured their agreement and Clint hit play, providing a backdrop of sound to mask Bucky’s whispered _told you so_ in Steve’s ear. Steve just pushed himself closer to Bucky’s side in response, leaning his head on Bucky’s shoulder and letting out a contented hum when Natasha’s legs ended up across his lap and Clint’s hand edged its way onto his shoulder.

He was safe and he was home, with all of his friends there to protect him.

And if an alternative fire response system was installed in the building next day and no one complained about the noise, well, that was just a happy coincidence.

\---+---+---+---

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed!
> 
> i'm on [tumblr](itsmylifekay.tumblr.com) if you want to say hi^^


End file.
